Moments
by IdleWit
Summary: But in the suddenness of the moment, with no knowledge of what would happen to both of them in the distant future or the near one, she felt desperate to know who he was. “My story? What do you think it would be?” “Oh I don’t know. The truth.


**MOMENTS**

"…_Some men are dead, and some are alive, and others sail on the sea…"_

**I. Some men are dead.**

They dance around the fire, the light flickering over them, filling their eyes, their feet prancing in an odd movement which was not quite like a dance yet not quite like a stumble either.

And at that moment she feels young.

Then suddenly she finds that they have stopped, falling in a heap upon one another. She couldn't locate the exact moment they had stopped, or who had decided upon it, but it simply happened in the middle of their dance and they both flung themselves upon the sand.

Both exhausted, laughing breathlessly and looking up at the stars though they did not know what was quite so funny, or what was so interesting about those endless twinkling orbs which mocked the briefness of their lives yet endlessness of their days.

Then all together she finds her head turning to look at him lying next to her, and suddenly her curiosity was sparked. She knew she was using him as a means to an end, that when all was said and done he'd go his way and she'd go hers. But in the suddenness of the moment, with no knowledge of what would happen to both of them in the distant future or the near one, she felt desperate to know who he was.

That's what life is, she thought oddly, just a string of talkings and knowings and then leavings, with no rest in between. Three different parts which when put together made up a life and summed up a person's relationship with everyone else.

Life was simply moments between people, some exciting, others tiring, but all just moments gone almost as quickly as they had come. Then one was looking forward to the next moment with the next person, and it continued on until there was no more people, and no more moments, and finally no more life.

She feels desperate to do this with him, because she sees in his eyes stories and tales which aren't all exaggerated, and she wishes to know them and share them if only for a moment.

She does not know how to tell him all this, so she sits up and just watches him. Finally he notices her watching, and feeling rather awkward he sits up himself and catches her eye.

"What's wrong?" he finally slurs, taking a moment in his rum addled state to remember how to string words together.

"What's your story Jack?" she finally asks after a pause, it seemed such a simple question yet it fit.

She waits with bated breath to see what he will say as he looks at her with an odd expression, his eyes dancing in the fire light, yet not as light as they had been a moment before. She begins to wonder if she should not have asked, but brushes this thought aside. After all when again would she have the opportunity to ask him?

"My story?" he finally asks his voice slightly clearer as he watches her. His eyes flicker in the fire light, "What do you think it would be?"

"Oh I don't know," she says becoming excited and leaning towards him eagerly. She is young and she wants tales of gold and of excitement and he knows it. "The truth I suppose."

"Well miss," he finally says after a silence. He sits up and takes a heavy swig of rum, looking towards the ocean. "My stories filled with loneliness, and hunger, and Tortuga, and pick pocketing, and surviving, and whores and finally whoring…"

She looks at his face in shock, and is disappointed with the solemn look that has shadowed him. There is a pause.

"Is that true?" she finally asks quietly, trying to gage his face and if there was any honesty there.

He looks at her his gaze searching and forcing her to look away to her folded hands.

"It's what you expect of a pirate," he finally answers simply.

"Is none of it true then?" she asks wondering about the answer.

She wishes he wasn't so solemn and was back to dancing and laughing. She wishes he had told her the story she wanted to hear, of the gold and the treasure and the adventures, and not of the nightmare he had exposed. Most of all she wishes that this moment was over.

"Maybe," he shrugs, "Then again maybe not." Then he grins again, the years falling from his face, and rises with his rum. Once more he begins to caper around the fire once more singing with gold in his eyes.

Then she smiles half heartedly and rises to join him and to dance some more.

And she realizes that she has just had her first moment with him.

And she tries to understand what he has just told her, like a riddle.

It is only later that she finds he never did answer her question.

And she realizes that moment between them, the one they first had, that one was the talking part.

**II. And some are alive.**

She has grown, not in the physical sense though she has learnt how to use a sword. But she has grown in other senses. She knows more and she is aware of more.

And at that moment she feels experienced.

She knows he lied to her last time she asked.

Yet she is still curious about him, more curious then before, but less curious then she would be in a year's time, though she wasn't to know that. This time she wasn't inhibited by intoxicating youth, which left her awkward around him.

She was well used to his teasing by now, his suggestions. But she knew when it came to it he would choose his ship over her, and she would choose Will without a second thought. There was nothing wrong with harmless flirting however, and she enjoyed knowing that nothing serious would ever be supposed of her fluttering eyelashes and coy smile, not from him at least.

He is at home on his ship, at ease and his odd gait did not seem so odd as he strutted around, almost showing her off to Elizabeth. Elizabeth sometimes found herself watching him on the journey, trying to figure him out, though that was impossible.

It was however, why she knew he had lied to her last time. No Tortugan child would be able to read and write as he did and certainly even well bred people found it hard to speak in different tongues as fluently as he.

This knowledge makes her smile as she watches him draw a map with care, sitting on the deck and basking in the sun. It is what encouraged her to ask him once more that question.

Coming up behind him she looks at the intricate map with its swirls and pictures which only a trained cartographer could draw. She looks at it and she wonders, and finds that she cannot tear her eyes away from that expert drawing and from his skilled hands.

"Do you actually want anything love?" he asks her, feeling awkward as she stares and looking toward her with a mixture of annoyance and smugness. "Or are you just admiring the view?" He smirks at this, showing his gold teeth, she simply smiles back as smugly.

"What's your story Jack?" she asks that simple question again, and he pauses for a moment looking at her with that odd expression once again.

His eyes are shining in the sun, and she doesn't know if it is just her imagination, or if they have dulled somewhat as soon as he hears that question leave her lips once more.

She does not regret asking, though doubt creeps up to her she brushes it aside more quickly then she did the first time. After all when would she get the chance ask him this question again?

"My story," he finally asks, shading his eyes with his thick black lashes and leaning closer, almost flirtatiously. "And what exactly would you want that to be love." He gives her a suggestive smile, raising his eyebrows.

"Oh I don't know," she says, pretending to think. She is has seen more and knows more and she is eager to hear stories of battles and the sea and he knows it. "How about the truth this time."

He smiles slightly again, and sways closer to her, his breath tickling her face and making her grimace slightly. "Well Lizzy," he says almost in a whisper, a slight smirk playing upon his lips. "My stories filled with pirate blood, and legends and adventures and the sea and freeing and finally freedom."

She narrows her eyes and steps back as she notices that his hand has come up while he says all this to rest upon her neck. He doesn't take offence but grins like a naughty boy who has been caught trying to pinch from the pantry.

She looks at his face in suspicion and is slightly disappointed with the playful look that has come over it.

"Is that true?" she finally asks quietly trying to gage his face and wondering if there was ever any honesty there.

He gives her a searching look, and she is again forced to drop her gaze, looking down at her booted feet.

"It's what you expect of a legend," he finally answers simply.

"Is none of it true then?" she asks rather annoyed because she wants the answer now.

She wishes he wouldn't look at her in that way, and that he was back to flirting and swaggering and cursing. She wishes he had told her the story she wanted to hear, of the battles and the sea and the adventures, and not the lie he had wove. Most of all she wishes that this moment would last a little longer.

"Maybe," he shrugs. "Then again maybe not." And he grins that infuriating grin of knowledge and ends the moment by turning away and swaggering to his wheel. Once more he is back to swaggering, once more cursing with freedom in his eyes. Then she smiles and follows to join him and to flirt some more.

And she realizes she has just had her second moment with him.

And she tries to remember what he has just told her, like a story.

It is only later that she finds he never did answer her question.

And she realizes that moment between them, the last one they just had, that one was the knowing part.

**III. And others sail on the sea.**

She sits on some old steps in the dark of a wrecked ship, which along with others, makes up shipwrecks cove and the pirates haven. She neither feels young, nor experienced at that moment, but a heavy weight has fallen upon her, making her just feel troubled.

And at that moment she feels old.

She has just called all the pirates to a battle, a battle she was unsure of winning and a battle she knew would probably kill most of them. All she could see was Becketts cold face and all she could hear was Jack's voice saying 'Pirate' and all she knew were Will's warm eyes asking her how he could trust her.

She felt like curling up like a child and crying, she felt like standing up and screaming, she felt like doing all these things, but instead she just sat and stared and did nothing. Then there were boots in the quiet corridor, lighted by candles held upon brackets. She did not look up, she could not mistake that stride, and then Jack was gracefully throwing himself down beside her.

They sat like that in silence for a while, and then he looks at her face so drawn and pale and he reluctantly holds out his rum bottle to her. She takes it without seeing it and before she knows it she has tipped it, flung her head back and drowned half of it's contents.

He sits there and just looks at her, saying nothing, and the silence stretches for what seems like an age. She feels as if she is going to be sick, because she knows the night will not last forever and she needs something to distract her from the fast approaching dawn and from the battle which was sure to come bloodier then any before.

She finds herself heavy with the rum, her eyes drooping but with no sleep forthcoming, and he sits beside her through this without one word. She finds herself looking at him, really looking, something she hadn't done since he'd been taken to the depths.

He has changed once more, in her eyes he is always changing. And she finds despite herself, that curiosity is once more stirring as she remembers the odd look he had given the man, the keeper of the code, and the odd conversation she had overheard between them. She never realized Jack had parents. And then she begins to wonder about how many pirates had parents, and how many _were_ parents, and how many had sisters and brothers they probably would never see because she had ordered them into a fools battle.

Then she finds herself babbling things to him, though she could not exactly remember what. Things about her childhood, things she hadn't spoken of in such a long time. Her fears about marriage, her fears without marriage, her woes over Will and her woes over herself. And then she finds she is crying though she doesn't know how it started or when it started and an apology is mingled with the tears, so garbled he does not hear it or maybe he chooses not to.

And he pats her on the back awkwardly and gives her more rum and tells her to let it all out because it's the best thing to do before a battle. And then she is crying because she is ashamed because she is scared. And though she doesn't remember telling him this he answers as if she has, telling her that everyone is scared before a battle, that everyone is scared of dying. And then she asks him what it's like and he takes his hand from her back, and there is silence once more.

She knows she has erred in some way, and in her intoxicated state she knows she should leave well alone but she cannot help it and it spills out.

"What's your story Jack?" she asks that simple question for what she imagines to be the last time.

She asks it as she looks at his changed face, which has not aged at all, but somehow looks an age older, or maybe it was his eyes. And he turns to her, from where he had been looking at the wall in cold silence, and that odd expression which she could never identify flickered across his face. And she thinks maybe she could never give a name to it because it was all emotions mingled into one, as he thought of the lifetime he had lived.

His eyes flicker in the candle light and she knows they have been duller since they brought him back from Davy Jones' locker. And this time she does regret asking the question straight after the first one. But she also knew she would never get another chance to ask him again.

"My story," he says quietly after the drawn out silence. "And what do you expect it to be?"

"I don't know," she replies slurring slightly and shrugging at his even tone and even eyes. She is burdened and wants a fairytale about freedom and care freeness and he knows it but he does not feel so accommodating this time. "Maybe the truth this time round." And she attempts to smile, but it is weak.

"Well Elizabeth," he says in those same even tones, there is a pause as she waits with bated breath for him to continue, and he plays with the dragon ring upon his finger. "My story's filled with a pretty mother and foreign lands and spices and uncertainty and fever and finally madness."

She looks at his face with sympathy and is not disappointed as he looks back, the candle light flickering as if in his very eyes, an unreadable look upon his face.

"Is that true?" she asks trying to gage his face, and knowing there is some honesty there just as there is some lies.

And this time she is the one with the searching gaze and he is the one who drops his to that ring upon his finger.

"It's what you expect of a man," he finally answers simply. His air is almost blasé now, and he attempts to flash a grin.

"Well," she says resolutely as she notices he does not succeed, "I think some of it must be true. Actually I think there's truth in all of them, all your stories."

"How can you say that," he says, looking at her with an entirely amused expression on his face though his eyes say otherwise, Elizabeth would almost say it was worry. "There all different stories, they can't _all _be true. Well not about _me_ at least"

"I'm sure some parts are true," she answers not taking her eyes off his face, "And together they do make the whole truthful story about Jack."

There is a pause as he does not look at her and he does not answer her and she thinks she may have got it right and despite everything feels excitement rush through her as she thinks her curiosity might just be slaked. And finally she asks him looking intently at his face. "Will you tell me it?"

He doesn't answer her, and the silence seems to stretch on for an age, then he looks at her with piercing eyes. "Only the good parts love?" he asks instead, his face as solemn as the first time they had this conversation an age ago.

"Some of the bad parts too then?" she asks quietly after a drawn silence, dropping her gaze back to her lap at his look. There is a pause between them as he does not answer. "Are all of them true then?" she asks rather sadly, and she finds she does not want the answer anymore.

She wishes he wouldn't look so solemn anymore and she wished he had told her all the stories she wanted to hear, all the fairytales and not the truth he had added. Most of all she wises that this moment had never happened.

"Maybe," he says and then he gets up to go nowhere with a storm in his eyes. He did not grin, nor did he dance or sing, or swagger or curse.

She sits alone, unsmiling and does not follow him. But his words still haunt her and all his stories. It goes on for the rest of the night, and though she is distracted from thinking about the battle, she would have proffered to have been thinking of it rather then of what Jack's life had been like.

And she realizes she has had her last moment with him.

And she tries to forget what he has told her like a bad dream

It was only later that she finds he never did answer her question, and she never does want him to.

And she realizes that moment between them, the last one they had, that one was the leaving part.

**A little one shot, I suppose similar to my one shot Never and connected to it, though you don't have to read it unless you want to. I was trying to do the same thing I did there, whatever that was, but it turned out different. I'm not entirely satisfied with it, but it will serve. Not meant to be J/E as I am not a J/E shipper or a J/anything shipper pretty much. But hey you can read it however you want, it's a free world after all (at least if you're a pirate). **

**Please review and tell me what you think, all reviews are greatly appreciated and criticism welcome. I think I'm going to write a series of one shots similar to this (but obviously with varying characters) using the lines from the song Hoist the colours (which is in AWE) but I'm not entirely certain. Tell me what you think. **

**Sairra : P**


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